Chapter Nine: Ashes and Aftermath
The city didn't sleep the night Dominic Rossi died. Sirens wailed like mourning hymns, and whispers traveled fast across rooftops, alleyways, and blood-streaked streets. The name Ronnie Moretti became more than a warning—it became a reckoning.
But even as Dominic's body turned cold, his legacy clung to the bones of Brooklyn like a ghost that refused to rest.
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Three days after the warehouse bloodbath, Ronnie stood in the old Moretti chapel. Candles flickered across the marble altar. Her father's cross still hung where he'd placed it years ago—unmoved, untouched, as if even God had been afraid to dislodge it.
She ran a hand down the wooden pew in front of her.
"You taught me to win," she whispered to the silence. "But you never told me what comes next."
Tommy stepped into the chapel behind her, hesitated. "We've got a problem," he said.
Ronnie didn't turn around. "Of course we do."
"Giordano wants more than he asked for. He thinks he deserves a seat at the table now."
"He was never promised one."
"He says promises don't matter. Only power does."
Ronnie finally turned. "Then remind him who has it."
---
Later that day, in the boardroom of the Moretti estate, the remnants of the family sat in council. Luca. Sparks. Tommy. A few trusted soldiers. The air was dense with cigarette smoke and guarded tension.
"We take out Dominic, and everyone else thinks it's open season," Luca said, voice sharp. "Giordano's moving troops toward Red Hook. Vasquez from the Bronx is sniffing around our suppliers."
"Power vacuums don't stay empty," Sparks muttered.
Ronnie nodded slowly, looking at the map spread before them. She tapped a red pin on the west side. "We hold the docks. That's the artery. Whoever controls the flow controls the war."
Tommy leaned forward. "And what about the Rossi remnants? Dominic had followers. They'll want revenge."
"They'll get a funeral," Ronnie said coldly. "Same as him."
But even as she said it, a flicker of doubt crept into her voice.
Because Dominic had always been three steps ahead.
---
That night, Ronnie found herself in Dominic's safehouse. It had taken Luca's best hackers and two weeks of wiretaps to finally breach the firewalls around it.
The walls were bare. Spartan. His presence lingered in the scent of leather and smoke.
She ran her fingers across a desk. Then paused.
There was a hidden panel—subtle, locked by an old-school mechanical key. Tommy stepped forward with bolt cutters, but Ronnie stopped him.
"No. He'd expect brute force. Look for his codes."
After twenty minutes of searching, she found it: a book on philosophy. Inside, taped to the spine, was a small brass key.
The panel clicked open.
Inside: a ledger. Full of accounts, names—and a flash drive.
Ronnie stared at it for a long moment, her heart a storm.
She inserted the drive into Sparks' laptop back at the estate.
What they found made her blood run cold.
Dominic hadn't just been dealing with rival families. He'd been funding a silent takeover—laundering money through charitable fronts, bribing senators, and even planting a mole inside her own circle.
A name stood out: Tommaso Vercetti.
Tommy.
---
She felt the betrayal like a gunshot.
The next morning, Tommy approached her on the terrace, coffee in hand.
"You look like hell," he said gently.
She stared out over the skyline. "Sleep's for people who can afford peace."
He stepped closer. "You did it. You won. Doesn't it feel like something?"
She turned, studied his face. The creases around his eyes. The subtle guilt.
"Tell me, Tommy," she said softly, "if I asked you to betray me, would you say no?"
He blinked. "Is that a trick question?"
She didn't answer.
---
Flashback: Two years ago. Sicily.
Ronnie and Tommy, standing on a windswept hill. Her hand in his.
"You don't have to do this," he said.
"Yes, I do."
"You can walk away. You could leave this all behind."
She shook her head. "I can't leave what I am."
And then he kissed her.
Not out of lust. But desperation. Because he knew what was coming.
---
Now, in the present, Ronnie whispered: "You said you'd follow me anywhere."
Tommy looked down. "And I did."
"But not alone."
He didn't answer.
Sparks burst in, phone in hand. "The files from the drive? Dominic had another plan. A second war. It's already started. We missed the first shots."
Ronnie straightened. "Where?"
"Queens. One of our labs. Torched last night."
Ronnie's voice dropped into a growl. "Get the car."
Tommy stayed behind as she left. And as she disappeared down the hall, he whispered to the empty room:
"I never stopped loving you. But I don't know if I ever stopped lying, either."
---
Queens was a war zone.
Ash and embers floated through the air like snow. Smoke curled from the wreckage of a warehouse—a front for a pharmaceutical lab, gone up in flames.
Bodies. Four of their own. Burned, shot, executed.
Ronnie stepped through the carnage like a ghost.
Dominic's shadow hadn't died with him. It was rising again. And now it wore no face.
"We've got enemies on all sides," Luca said.
"No," Ronnie whispered. "We've got enemies inside."
She stared into the smoke.
This wasn't the end.
This was the beginning of a new war.
And this time, she would lead it alone.
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